


The Tensile Strength of a Queen

by Concetta20



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Concetta20/pseuds/Concetta20
Summary: Things may be mended between sisters, but as the full consequences of the revelation of her powers sets in Elsa begins to feel the true weight of her responsibility as queen and the repercussions of her choices.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on fanfiction.net.

 

Chapter 1

Eyes as cold as the ice seeping out from a pair of pale fisted hands swept the length of the long, mahogany table. The eyes of the fifteen uneasy men lining either side of the table looked away.

"What?" Queen Elsa of Arandelle drew the word out and her ministers shivered as they literally felt her displeasure. Fear began to settle in the swiftly cooling chamber.

Normund, her Forsvarsminister licked his lips and cleared his throat, bravely taking the queen's attention away from Frederik, the Finansminister, who had originally said the displeasing thing, but lost the nerve to repeat it.

"You must begin discussions of potential suitors for your majesty's hand."

In a very small corner tucked in the back of her mind, Elsa knew this day would come, she just had not expected it to come so soon. It had been almost over a month since her re-instatement to the throne and she was already overwhelmed by all the things she had to attend to, on top of still figuring out the finer points of controlling her abilities.

"This seems rather sudden."

"We would not have brought it up this soon, your majesty," piped up the Lord Frederik, regaining his courage, going even so far as to allow a hint of censure enter into his voice, "but since you insist on allowing Princess Ana to become attached to a—a—-a mere ice-harvester, we have no other choice but to depend on you for a strong alliance."

"My Queen," Lord Yrian, her Handelsminister added, "many of our military allies and trade partners have broken their agreements with us."

"Have you found out why?" Elsa asked, but in her heart knew the answer. It was further confirmed by the way Lord Yrian could no longer keep eye contact with her as he struggled for a tactical way to answer.

"Because of this." Elsa opened her palm before her and a delicate snowflake fluttered up from her hand.

"Yes, your majesty . . . they do not want any dealings with an 'ice-demon'— Their words, not mine!" Yrian hastily added when Elsa's eyes flashed at him.

"And I have had word through the latest census that nearly a quarter of Arandelle's citizens have departed for other kingdoms."

"Good riddance to them all . . ." growled Lord Sjurd, her Statsminister. He had been her father's prime minister and his greatest friend and filled a paternal rôle in her life since the passing of the King. He regarded any slight to the Queen as a slight on himself as well.

"I had hoped . . ." Elsa murmured, so only Sjurd, who sat close to her right, heard her.

"I know, your majesty. Unfortunately, not everyone is as understanding of your powers as others," Sjurd said gently, "nor as forgiving."

If they were alone he would have taken her hand in consolation, but in the council room Elsa strove to keep things formal. She had had a hard enough time getting her government to take her seriously, to see her as a strong leader, not a young queen out of her depth. She may have been age to rule at twenty-five, but she still felt all of fifteen in the presence of her father's seasoned council members. She could have chosen other people, but the King had trusted them, and they had served him well.

The anger that had been welling in Elsa mixed with sadness at the report. Ice began to crawl down Elsa's maroon gown to the floor, then up the wall to frost the large stained-glass window behind her.

"Your majesty . . ." her Utenriksminister began carefully "we could begin the discussions now, if you like—"

Elsa raised a white hand, silencing him. "I will think about it." She swiftly rose and swept out of the chamber, her fur trimmed mantle fluttering as if caught in a sudden breeze as it trailed behind her.

The Cabinet sighed in relief as warmth seeped back into the room. The Kulturminister rose from his chair first.

"Meeting adjourned?"

Gerda, their chambermaid, on Elsa enquiring after the whereabouts of her sister, directed her to the stables.

Elsa stepped briefly into her own chambers where she removed her mantle and stripped out of her formal-wear to her linen undergown, then with a wave of her hand, ice overtook the undergown and transformed it into her "Ice Queen" dress, as Ana dubbed it. When spending time with her sister, she usually created this dress or something less formal; it helped her step from "Queen-mode" to "sister-mode". Unfortunately, though, she felt that the conversation she was preparing to have with Ana would have to dip into both rôles. Elsa hoped she could do it; nothing else was going right.

Glossary:

Forsvarsminister: Minister of Defense

Finansminister: Minister of Finance

Handelsminister: Minister of Trade

Statsminister: Prime Minister

Utenriksminister: Minister of Foreign Affairs

Kulturminister: Minister of Culture

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the movie when the "Great Thaw" happens, everything is magically back to normal, with no damage left over from the sudden heavy ice and snow. I made it so Elsa can't magically completely reverse the affects of her ice powers (it would have been a depressing ending to the movie indeed, if after the Great Thaw, everything was brown and dead, so I can see why Disney had that happen). I also have been spelling "Anna" as "Ana" because "Ana" in my mind better indicates the "ah" pronounciation, versus "Anna" which suggests to me a long "a". It's a preference.

Elsa looked sadly at the suffering royal gardens, located in the palace courtyard. The Day of the Great Snow, as it was becoming known, killed many of the plants, and those that did not die were suffering from shock. Her mother's prized peonies were one such group. The buds that were reaching to the blue sky were like black beads and the leaves wrinkled and dull. And It was not only the palace gardens that she had affected, but many of the crops as well.

As Elsa continued to cross the courtyard toward the stables she grimaced as the musty smell of horse hair, hay and muck assaulted her senses. Elsa touched her nose with her forefinger, capping it with a thin layer of ice that pinched her nostrils together. When passing any servants, she tried as nonchalantly as possible to shield her nose as she acknowledged them with a nod of her head.

When Elsa entered the stable complex she heard her sister's bubbly laugh. But when she saw her she stopped short and ducked back behind the recently rounded corner.

Kristoff and Ana were in the stable aisle grooming Sven; although they seemed to be doing more playing, as one tried to intrude in the other's workspace with their brush.

"Excuse me, trying to work here," Ana said, nudging Kristoff out of the way.

"Um, was here first." Kristoff nudged her back.

"'Um', no you weren't."

"Hello? My reindeer."

"You know, Kristoff, your hair's looking untidy, too, maybe I'll give it a good brush while I'm at it." Ana threatened Kristoff's blond thatch with the curry comb, which was full of Sven's oily sheddings.

"No! Agh! Don't you dare, carrot top!"

"'Carrot top?!'"

Elsa stifled a giggle. Ana had always been sensitive about her rust-colored locks.

"You heard me, red. And I'm going to give that your hair a styling you won't soon forget!"

"It's not red! It's strawberry blonde!"

Kristoff picked up the dandy brush from the floor and Ana took off with a squeal.

Elsa rolled her eyes in dry amusement as she watched the couple chase each other around.

"Aw, come on, Ana! Don't you want to look pretty?"

Kristoff ducked inside an empty stall and when Ana realized he had stopped chasing her, she whirled around and began to search for him.

"I'm pretty enough," she said as she slowly walked down the aisle.

When she passed Kristoff's stall he lunged out and pulled her in. He had only intended to hold her close, but unfortunately her momentum caused him to lose his footing, sending them both into a pile of hay, with Kristoff landing on top of her.

Kristoff quickly pushed himself up. "You okay?"

"Unscathed."

Kristoff leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "You know, I never knew I had a thing for freckles until I met you." Those same freckles seemed to disappear as the flush in her face deepened; tendrils of red hair had come loose from her braids and her large green eyes were luminous in the soft yellow light that filtered through the stable.

"You are beautiful," Kristoff murmured. The tenderness in his voice warmed Ana from head to toe. Her eyes fluttered shut and Kristoff lowered his head for another kiss.

Elsa, meanwhile, had seen where they had gone and the silence that followed had made her nervous. She trusted Kristoff, but he was still a man and Ana was an inexperienced young woman in the throes of infatuation. Elsa had approached the stall door and was about to let out a timely "ahem" when Olaf showed up.

"What'cha lookin' at?"

Kristoff launched himself away from Ana so forcefully that he bumped his head against the wall of the stall.

"Your majesty— I was — um —" "Oh hi, Elsa, we were just—" They both stammered simultaneously.

Elsa raised her hand. "Enough, enough. You really don't need to explain to me, I just—"

"What's that on your nose?" Ana asked as she help Kristoff to his feet.

Elsa blinked at her for a moment then slowly raised her hand to touch her nose.

"Oh!" She had forgotten all about her improvised clothespin. With a sheepish grin she dissolved it. The smell of the stable hit her afresh with a blow that was almost a physical force. All royal dignity was thrown aside as she reeled back, gagged and covered her the lower half of her face with both hands. "How can you stand that smell?!"

Ana sniffed then shrugged her shoulders. "I'm used to it, I guess. Kristoff smells like this all the time."

"I do not!" The young man exclaimed before dipping his head toward his shoulder to take a whiff. "Do I . . . ?"

"It's earthy" Ana slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I like earthy."

Fertilized earthy . . . Elsa thought to herself and suppressed a grin. She smiled again as she watched them together. Warmth seemed to emanate from Ana and Kristoff like the glow of a heated coal, and the sudden remembrance of why she was there in the first place caused Elsa to shiver.

"Ana, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Ana drew away from Kristoff and approached her sister with a look of concern.

"What's up?"

"In private."

"Do you need Sven, Olaf and me to leave?" Kristoff asked.

"No, that won't be necessary," Elsa assured him, "we'll go." Elsa linked her arm with Ana's and led her away.

"I'll meet you later then," Kristoff called after her.

"Yep!"

"Seven o'clock outside my place. Skip dessert tonight."

Ana stopped and spun around. "Oooh, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?"

Elsa tugged her arm and Kristoff caught the Queen giving him a quick glance. The brief flash of her pale eyes seemed sad, and it set a dozen red flags off in his brain.

Olaf looked from the Queen to Kristoff, then back again.

"Want me to eavesdrop?"

"Yes—no! No, Olaf . . . it's none of my business . . . I'm sure it's nothing serious . . . it's probably just some girl talk . . . yeah . . . girl talk . . ." Kristof forced a smile.

"I've never talked to a girl— a least, not a 'snow-girl', anyway. Do you think the Queen would make a snow-girl for me? Or would it be a snow-woman?"

"I don't know, Olaf, you'll just have to ask . . ."

"What if the snow-girl she made didn't like me? I mean, just because the Queen makes her for me doesn't guarantee anything . . ." Olaf looked down at his snowy tummy. "Maybe if I shave off a few pounds . . ." Olaf picked up a dandy brush and began to file down his midsection.

Kristof picked up the curry comb and resumed grooming Sven. He looked over his reindeer's back at the retreating figures of the sisters, and despite his earlier attempt at reasoning, his uneasiness intensified.

* * *

Ana made her way to the settee in formal parlor. It was the same settee that she had laid in, dying, while she waited for the kiss that never came from the man she never really knew.

Elsa closed the door then leaned against it. She took a moment to study her sister who seemed to be lost in thought.

"Ana . . ."

"Hm?"

"Has Kristoff spoken to you of marriage yet?"

Ana almost missed the setee.

"Wow. Um . . . no . . . not—not exactly."

"Not at all?"

"No."

Elsa sat down on the edge of an ottoman that belonged to the wing-backed chair, facing Ana.

"I mean," Ana continued, "I'm not in any hurry—at least, not this time." Ana began to absently stroke her braid, the one with the streak of white threaded through it. It was a nervous gesture Elsa recognized.

"I understand."

"Not that I think Kristoff is secretly evil or anything."

"No, of course not! I don't, either. He's a fine young man." Elsa reached out and covered the hand that fidgeted with braid and gave it a squeeze. "If not for him, you would not be here, I would not be here. He brought us back together. But . . ."

Elsa captured both her sister's hands.

"Do you love him? Enough to spend the rest of your life with him?"

Ana opened her mouth to answer but then closed it. She looked away and her gaze became unfocused as she seriously thought.

"Or is it just infatuation, perhaps born out of gratitude?"

Ana looked up sharply. "No. At least— I don't think so. How can you tell the difference?"

"I don't know," Elsa said, suddenly feeling very young and sheepish. "I've never been in love."  Elsa returned her hands to her lap and stared at the crystalline light reflected in her icy gown.

"I do know, Elsa, that I like him very much."

Elsa nodded. "That's all I needed to know." She reached out and patted her sister's hands.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" Ana asked, tilting her head.

"That's all."

"There's nothing else?"

Elsa rose. "Nothing."

"Then why do I have the feeling you're not completely sharing with me?"

"I don't know. Maybe the incident with Hans has made you more suspicious," Elsa said irritably.

Ana's frown deepened.

"I'm sorry, Ana. I'm just a little tired. Don't worry. If there's something really serious going on, I'll tell you about it."

"Okay . . ." Ana did not move from the settee, but continued to look at her sister, the crease between her eyebrows remaining.

Elsa opened the door. Ana rose and followed her out. "Do you know what Cook's preparing for supper?"

Elsa was relieved by the sudden safe change in subject. "Well, today is Fredag . . ."

Ana wrinkled her nose. "Oh, yeah, Fredag is Southern Isle dish day."

"Was. I had Cook throw out that recipe book."

"Good. But, I hope we're not having a cabbage dish instead. Cook's on a strange cabbage-kick. Yesterday it was cabbage soup, the day before it was halupki and the day before that was some other cabbage thing. I don't know how much longer I can stand it." Ana clutched her stomach. "It makes me so gassy . . ." she whined.

"Good to know," Elsa said taking a dramatically large step away from her sister. Ana covered her face with her hands and groaned.

"It's not funny . . ."

Elsa chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll speak to Cook about it."

The palace's portion of cabbage had already been harvested and stored in the spring house before the Day of the Great Snow. In fact, the extra cold conditions had increased its storage-life. Elsa knew that once the cabbage was used up, Cook would be moving on to the root vegetables.

"Beets . . ." Elsa whispered with a shudder.

"Hm?"

"Nothing. I'll see you at dinner?"

Ana rubbed her stomach again and gave her a grim smile. "Depends on what it is . . ."

Elsa waved Ana off with a laugh, and started down the hall towards her chambers. Once inside her bedroom Elsa lowered herself onto the edge of her bed, her legs felt a little shaky. She inhaled deeply then let it out slowly, feeling her heartbeat slow. She could not believe what fear had almost driven her to. She felt like she had had a moment of madness, and now that the moment passed she looked back it with shame. She couldn't believe she had almost tried to save herself from by suggesting Ana take her place.

Elsa had thought that with the discovery of powers and Ana's safety secured, he biggest fears had been laid to rest and she would never be that anxious person again. She had been wrong. Elsa gripped her skirt until her knuckles turned white.

Her father had trained her himself along with hundreds of tutors, preparing her for the duties of a queen, to deal with the issues she was now facing; issues that when they came naturally you one could see them developing and plan accordingly, but because of her they had come suddenly and all at once.

Trade, agriculture, marriage . . .

Elsa curled up in bed and hugged herself. It felt as if the world was spinning too fast and she was struggling to her find her footing. Warm tears trickled down her cheeks and froze into little ice pellets once they left her face.

"Papa . . . I don't know what to do . . ."

A snapping, crinkling sound came to Elsa's ears and she knew her window was frosting over.

* * *

Ana had watched forlornly as her sister disappeared around the corner. Elsa claimed that there was nothing more to discuss, but Ana was almost one hundred percent sure that was a lie. Something was really bothering Elsa and she was keeping it to herself. Why wasn't she sharing? Royal prerogative?"

"Don't shut me out, again . . ."

"Your Highness?"

Ana spun around to see Statsminister Sjurd bowing to her.

"Hi, Lord Sjurd," Ana let out a shaky laugh. "I didn't see you standing there."

Lord Sjurd looked at her gravely. "So, Her Highness has told you."

Ana narrowed her eyes at him. "Told me what?"

Sjurd froze and a gloved hand to his lips. "Oh, dear! I assumed on seeing you coming out . . ."

Ana slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the Statsminister.

"Well . . . never mind then!" Lord Sjurd tried to walk away but Ana easily over took him and blocked his path.

"'Told . . . me . . . what?" She repeated archly, trying to make herself look as regally intimidating as possible.

Lord Sjurd sputtered. "I really shouldn't say . . . if the Queen didn't tell you . . . I'm really not at liberty . . . "

"It's not fair keeping me in the dark like this. How am I to be of use to Arendelle if no one tells me what's going on around here?"

"Do you remember what happened at the first cabinet meeting, which the Queen so graciously invited you to?" Lord Sjurd raised a pair of bushy censorious eyebrows at her.

Ana bit her lip and looked away. "I fell asleep . . ."

"And snored," Sjurd added and tried again to leave, but Elsa continued to block him.

"Aw, come on! It was right after her Coronation ceremony; it had been a crazy morning!"

The Statsminister tried once more to walk away but Ana threw her arms out.

"Please, 'Surry' . . ." Ana pleaded, using her and Elsa's childhood name for him.

Sjurd shoulder's slumped in defeat and he looked very grim. "Very well, your highness. Come with me."

Lord Sjurd ushered Ana back into the formal parlor and the Princess had a sense of foreboding. Whatever Lord Sjurd was about to tell her, it was sure to be bad. Ana was really beginning to dislike the formal parlor.

With her mind full of Elsa and untold troubles she did not notice the little snow man who slid through the gap of the closing door and rolled to hide behind the high-backed chair.

* * *

 

When Kristoff came to live in Arendelle, he felt uncomfortable with the idea of living in the large palace; since he was only an ice harvester he felt that he did not really belong in there, no matter what Ana said. They were able to reach a compromise with the palace's gatehouse, which was Kristof found quite cozy.

That was where he stood now, outside of it, leaning against his sled with his arms folded. He turned his eyes from the twilight sky to the large clock ensconced in the gate's archway.

Fifteen minutes to eight.

"I wonder what's holding her up, Sven?" The reindeer moved up to Kristoff from behind and laid his head on his shoulder. He patted his animal's jaw.

"I hope she's alright," Kristoff said for Sven.

"Me too, buddy."

After another minute passed Kristoff pushed off the side of sled and began to pace.

"Five more minutes, Sven, then I'm going to go look for her."

Five minutes later Kristoff was halfway across the courtyard when he spotted a white shape coming toward him in the dark.

"Kristoff, Kristoff, Kristoff!"

"Olaf?"

In his haste the little snowman tripped over his own feet and his momentum caused him to roll. By the time he reached Kristoff he had become a giant snowball with eyes.

Despite his alarm Kristoff laughed.

"How can you chortle at a time like this?"

Kristoff immediately sobered and, kneeling down, he began to help Olaf put himself back to rights. "What's happened? Is it Ana?"

"It's both Elsa and Ana . . ." Olaf then proceeded to explain to Kristoff exactly what he heard from the Statsminister, about the economic crises and the resolution that an advantageous marriage alliance was Arendelle's only hope of survival.

" . . . so, it's either Queen Elsa or Ana that has to have an arranged marriage, but since Ana's already taken it will really have to be the Queen . . . "

Kristoff dropped Olaf's carrot nose and began to run towards the palace, but he slowed to a stop after only a few feet. After pausing a moment he walked forward a few paces but then stopped.

_What do I do?_

He shifted his weight and dragged his hand down his face. As he did so he caught sight of the bracelet Ana had fashioned for him by braiding strips of soft leather together. An unexpected lump began to form at the back of his throat.

"Kristoff!"

He looked up to see Ana running across the courtyard toward him. She stopped a foot away from him and doubled over, panting to catch her breath.

"I'm so . . . so, sorry . . . I completely forgot about—"

Kristof chuckled and forced himself to act casual. "It's okay. Just don't pass out on me."

Ana straightened and gave him a crooked smile, but as she looked at him it faded. "Torn" was clearly written all over her face.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, but Kristoff felt she was not apologizing for being late. "Can we— can we do it another time?"

"Of course," Kristoff answered gently, his eyes intent on her face. Ana awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She then took one step towards him. Before Kristoff could stop himself, he reached out to her. Ana hesitated a moment, then moved closer. He touched the side of her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes and leaned into his callused palm. When she opened her eyes again, they were sad. Her look confirmed his fears.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said softly with a nod.

Ana gave him a small smile and let out the breath she had been holding.

"See you tomorrow." She slowly turned away and walked toward the palace. When she reached the door she looked back at him over her shoulder. Kristoff gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin and waved. That seemed to have a heartening effect on Ana, for what started out as a weak smile became more natural. She stepped inside the palace and was gone.

The moment the door closed Kristoff's face fell and he looked as he had when he handed a dying Ana to the palace staff to be cared for and the doors had closed in his face, forever shutting him out from her life. Kristoff reached into the drawstring bag he kept tied to his belt and pulled out a small, velveteen box. He opened it and watched its contents sparkle in the moonlight. With a pained expression he closed his eyes and snapped the lid shut.

* * *

 

Elsa woke exhausted. She had hardly slept a wink last night. Her brain had refused to slow down. Each time she began to drift she heard the voices of her ministers bouncing around in her head, repeating their arguments and concerns. Elsa sat up and stretched. Her eyes were so dry they made a clicking noise each time she blinked. She was so tired that when she tried to slip on her robe she missed the right sleeve a few times before finally getting her arm through it.

She wandered over to the washstand and sent a silent thank you to Gerda who faithfully filled the pitcher with warm water every morning. She felt a little more awake after splashing her face. She began to draw back the curtains.

Normally the opening of the curtains was a task left to the chambermaid, all the years she had hidden her magic, Elsa did without a chambermaid. Despite the fact that she had Gerda now, drawing back the curtains was the one morning ritual she insisted she continue to do herself. The first look at the early morning sunshine had a way of lifting her spirit, and it did so again today. She was even feeling optimistic. She would figure out another solution to Arendelle's problems, aside from getting married.

Elsa was feeling so good now she began to hum a little as she moved from her bedroom to the adjoining receiving room, then to her study, smiling as the sunlight poured in. She reached for the curtain of the last window, which was situated behind her desk, but as she did so a block of white color caught the corner of her eye. She turned back around and saw an envelope sitting square in the middle of her desk.

"That wasn't there last night . . ." she murmured, a little disturbed by the idea that someone had come into her royal suite during the night. It was a good thing she kept the door to her bedroom locked. To be on the safe side, she unlocked the drawer with the false bottom and from the secret space she removed the box that held her State Papers. She looked through them. When she was satisfied everything was and order and nothing amiss, she turned her attention to the envelope.

Queen Elsa was inscribed on the front in familiar-looking, juvenile handwriting. She formed a thin dagger out of ice and, cutting through the flap, pulled out the letter.

"Your Majesty," the letter began. "Thank you for making me feel so welcome . . ." a sense of dread chased away the remnants of her good mood. Her eyes ran down to the bottom of the letter: "I am writing this letter to inform you of my resignation as Official Arendelle Ice Master and Deliverer."

Elsa stopped reading and ran from the room. She ignored the surprised stares of the palace staff as she hastily formed her ice dress over her robe and nightgown as she walked. She stopped at Ana's door and, yanking it open, dashed into the sitting room. On finding it empty she moved on to her sister's bedroom. She was not there.

Elsa turned from the room and made for the courtyard, bound for the gatehouse. She slowed her walk when she saw Ana standing in the gatehouse doorway, her back to her. She bit her lip.

"Ana?"

Ana turned and looked at her, confusion, concern and barely concealed panic was written all over her face. She seemed to know what happened without being told.

"I-I can't seem to find Kristoff . . . his sled's gone. Do you think he went for an early morning ice run without telling me? That's unlike him."

"Ana . . ."

"Where is he?" Ana repeated, moving towards her sister, wringing her hands and looking to Elsa so much like the rejected little girl she once was. The pain in her eyes was almost more than Elsa could bear.

"What's that?" Ana noticed the letter still clutched in Elsa's hands. She wordlessly handed it to her. As she anxiously read it, Elsa came and put an arm around Ana's hunched shoulders.

When Ana finished reading the short letter, she let it slip from her fingers. "I don't understand . . ."

With a choking sob Ana sank to the cobblestones. "Why did he not say anything to me? I don't understand!" Ana gripped the skirt of her dress so tightly, he fingers turned white. She did not know such clichés were possible but she really did feel like someone had punched a hole in her chest and ripped out her heart. The mere idea of having to go through life without Kristoff was excruciatingly unbearable. She bent over double and cried into her skirt.

Elsa took a hesitant step closer to where her sister sat. "I think . . . it may be my fault . . ."

Ana raised her tear-streaked face to her sister. "Do—hic—you—hic—mean it had to—hic— do with the alliance proposals—hic?"

"How did you know—?"

"'Surry' told me."

"What?"

"I kind of—hic—bullied him into it,"

"Ana, you had no right—"

Ana's head snapped up to fix her sister with a hurt and angry glare.

"I'm—hic—your sister, and I am a Princess of Arendelle, I had every—hic—right! The welfare of my kingdom is my concern, too! Why didn't you—hic—tell me?! I thought we were close—hic—My mistake."

Elsa knelt down and gripped Ana's hunched shoulders. "No, Ana, don't say that. You're right, I should have told you. I—I didn't want to burden you."

"We're sisters, Elsa! We're supposed to bear each other's burdens!"

"I was just afraid that if you knew about the marriage alliance proposal you would feel torn."

Ana could not refute that because that was exactly what had happened.

"Don't worry about me," Elsa said giving her sister's shoulders a squeeze. "You and I, we'll work on a solution together."

Ana looked up at her sister, a little bit of hope making an appearance on her face. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Then I'll forgive you this time . . ." She turned to look at the gatehouse again. "But, do you think we can hold off on any major decisions for a little while?"

Elsa raised her eyebrows in question.

"I've got me a man to find . . ." Ana's tears had dried and her face was a mask of grim determination.

"Of course."

* * *

 

Across the sea Prince Nikolaus Elva of the Southern Isles was staring at the elaborately inlaid mahogany doors of his father's study. He felt his palms sweating inside his gloves and wished he could rip them off. He looked down at his Hessian with dismay as he realized that they were dirty with garden soil. Of all days to look so untidy . . . He could not remember the last time he had been summoned to an audience with the King. He even had trouble remembering the last time he had spoken to him. It could not have been above ten time these past two months.

The doors Nikolaus had been waiting behind for three minutes suddenly creaked open, startling him.

"His Majesty will see you now," announced Alaric, his father's manservant, and a faithful member of the royal household staff for sixty years.

Nikolaus squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. The King was sitting in his favorite wing-backed chair in front of the fire with a blanket draped over his legs. He did not look up at his eleventh son as he approached, but he did gesture to the other wing-backed chair, sitting opposite.

Nikolaus slowly sat down. Once he settled he looked at his father. Face drawn and pale, the king looked a score older than his actual fifty years.

"Word has come to me of the incident in Arendelle, involving your brother."

Nikolaus' dark eyebrows shot up. That his father had shown interested in something outside of his chambers surprised him.

"I do not believe all this nonsense about the young queen of Arendelle having . . . what was it? . . . the power to manipulate water?"

"Ice."

"Ice, same thing."

"Neither do I, sire. I believe it to be a the product of the ravings of a bitter young man."

A look of pain crossed the king's face. "Hans . . . I still can't believe it. The apple of his mother's eye . . ." The king's eyes began to well up with tears. Nikolaus hastily dug into the cuff of his coat for a handkerchief and handed it to him.

"I'm so thankful his mother is not here to witness his disgrace."

_If mother had been here, it wouldn't have happened . . ._

"It has also been brought to my attention by Alaric—" the king nodded to the manservant who in turn bowed, "that you have been sending letters of formal apology to Arendelle on my behalf."

Nikolaus flushed and a twinge of fear jolted through him. He knew he should not have done it, but he felt responsible for his brother's actions and was sure his father would not get involved. He had not been involved in anything that went on in the kingdom.

Not since . . .

"It was a gross presumption on my part, Your Majesty, I—"

"Presumed upon my ignorance and inaction."

Nikolaus bowed his head "Forgive me."

"Has there been any reply?"

The prince slightly thrown off by the lack of punishment took a moment to answer. "No, sir."

The king sighed. "If it's the last thing I do on this earth, I'm going to make something right. Since you are so eager to be diplomatic, I'm commissioning you with the task of traveling to Arendelle and personally offering our apologies to the Queen."

"Me?"

The king leaned forward in his chair to fix Nikolaus with an intense stare.

"You're the only one I trust, Klaus."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was with trembling legs that Prince Nikolaus walked down the gangplank and stepped onto the pier in Arendelle. It was ironic to him that an islander such as he made such a poor sailor.

Nikolaus put his hand on the closest post to steady himself and tried to look casual and confident, but he knew the sailors who were unloading his belongings were not fooled, they had watched him retch over the side of the stern every day of the five day journey. Out of all his brothers he was the only one who could not stomach sea-travel, another reason he had not relished the idea of going to Arendelle.

Nikolaus fished out his spectacles from his breast-pocket and settled them on the bridge of his nose. He had taken to leaving them off for most of the voyage for fear that during his bouts of violent vomiting he would lose them to the ocean.

A reassuring pat on his shoulder caused another wave of nausea to roil within his worn-out stomach.

"Take heart, Your Highness, once you've had a rest on solid land and a bit of food, you'll be as right as rain."

"Please, Alvir, don't talk of food just yet," he said quietly to his valet and oldest friend.

The older man cringed sympathetically. "Sorry Your Highness."

A freshening breeze cooled the perspiration on Nikolaus' upper lip. He took a deep drought through his nose and felt his stomach begin to settle.

"With the captain's permission I commissioned a few of the sailors as I found most reliable to convey our luggage to the best inn in Arendelle. It's called," Alvir pulled a slip of paper from his breast pocket. "'The Jolly Narwhal'."

Nikolaus raised his eyebrows. "What does a narwhal and its mood have to do with food and lodging?"

Alvir shrugged, "Who can tell the reasons behind the names of many establishments? I have a distant cousin who runs a tavern on the outskirts of Corona called 'The Snuggly Duckling', and that place is neither snuggly nor are there ducklings, just lots of rough looking patrons who'd bite your nose off as soon as look at you. But, getting back to the Narwhal, they have their own taxi service to the inn, that hackney over there." Alvir pointed to the vehicle waiting at the end of the pier.

"Is it far from here?"

"According to the captain it's about a mile down the road, a straight shot from here and to the right."

"I'd rather walk, Alvir, if it's all the same to you. After being on that ship I'd like to move on my own two feet for a bit. You can take the hackney."

"But, Your Highness, I can't leave you to walk by yourself."

"I'll be fine, Alvir, no one knows who I am here, and we didn't announce our arrival."

"But, the sailors might say something ..."

"I paid the captain to charge his crew not to talk about my identity at port. The only citizens remaining here are those fiercely loyal to the Queen. I doubt my life would be worth lille skilling if they knew a member of the Southern Isles' royal house was here. I'd probably be lynched in the town square, at best. And I wouldn't blame them ..."

"Hopefully the crew will bide by their captain's commands ..."

"Hopefully."

Nikolaus began to walk down the cobblestoned street. Alvir followed.

Although hungry and tired the exercise refreshed Nikolaus and give him strength. His back was straighter and his strides lengthened, much to Alvir's dismay, as he struggled to keep up with the prince as he picked up speed. The prince was a quick walker despite his short stature. At five foot, four inches he was the shortest of his brothers.

In a small amount of time the pair stood before The Jolly Narwhal, a pleasant looking wooden structure nestled in the green hillside. It was a two-story rectangular building, the first floor being made of stone and the second story dark wood. The windows were long, with fifteen panes and the frames and shutters were painted red; extending off on the left side were rows of stables. The sign for the inn was a large wooden narwhal with the "horn" anchoring it to the lintel of the main entrance.

"Not bad," Alvir murmured as the pair stepped in.

The foyer's wood paneled walls were stained in a light color as was the desk where the proprietor sat with the guestbook open before him looking expectantly at the newcomers. He was a tower of a man, with bright red hair and bristling beard of the same color; he wore a brightly colored sweater, the stripes of which strained at the seams over his barrel chest. If this man found out who he was Nikolaus was sure he could snap him like a dry twig if he had the mind to. Nikolaus' right hand went instinctively to the saber at his side, although he could picture the man breaking it with his teeth and spitting out the fragments.

A large grin spread across the owner's face, softening his intimidating demeanor, Nikolaus relaxed.

"Welcome, welcome!" The man boomed. "Thank you for choosing the Happy Narwhal, the finest inn in Arendelle, if I do say so myself. My name is Lars Jørgensson and I am the proud owner of this fine establishment. " He spun the guestbook around to face Nikolaus and handed him a fountain pen with a flower tied on the end.

"Ah, a crocus aureus..." Nikolaus said, mostly to himself as he took the pen.

"What?"

"Oh, the golden crocus on your pen."

"Oh, yeah. It's the flower on the royal crest of Arendelle. We tie one to the pen to keep people from accidentally filching it. You like crocuses?"

"They're my favorite, but we don't have that lovely yellow species where I come from."

"Oh? And where do you come from?"

"The South- the south."

Suspicion immediately leapt into Lars' eyes. "Where in the south?"

Quickly Nikolaus' mind ran over the image of the map he poured over as a child, dreaming up outlandish stories to go along with the towns nestled in fjords and isolated mountains.

"Lilliesand."

"That's more Westerly than South."

The man knew his geography, too.

Nikolaus shrugged. "South-west, give or take."

"I ordered a bed frame from Lilliesand once. Had a devil of a time putting it together, I'll tell you. They show you in pictures how to put it together, but I still couldn't make heads nor tails of it, and then I thought it was missing some parts, almost sent an angry letter, but I found them ..."

Nikolaus had the pen poised over the guestbook trying to decide what name to put down.

"What brings you to Arenedelle, if you don't mind my asking?"

Nikolaus did mind, but of course he could not say that without immediately raising the man's suspicions again. Now he had to think up a reason for coming as well as a name.

"Wait! Let me guess!"

Was Lars about to unwittingly provide him with an identity? How fortuitous.

"You knew the fancy name for that flower, I bet you're here to help the Queen with her gardens! Am I right?"

Nikolaus blinked for a moment then a slow smile spread across his face, growing wider with relief, and the idea took root. "You are exactly right!"

Lars beamed.

"I'm Pål and this is my assistant Stig."

Nikolaus quickly scribbled the names on the guestbook, not bothering to think up surnames.

"You have lots of luggage." Lars gestured to the five trunks of varying sizes at their feet.

"Lots of equipment. For gardening. Gardening equipment." Alvir piped up.

"Of course, of course. Well-" Lars turned around and took a set of keys off a hook on the wall behind him, "You're in room two, at the top of the stairs on the right, two beds. Does that suit you?"

"Fine, thanks." Nikolaus barely restrained himself from snatching the keys from Lars' outstretched hand and bolting for the stairs.

"Oh, and here-" Lars reached down behind the desk and brought out a large glass jar. "A custom of the house, a complimentary jar of lutefisk, made by my brother Oaken. He owns a trading post and sauna just outside of Arendelle- his business card is pasted on the lid, if you're ever in that neck of the woods ..."

The empty eyes of the lye-soaked codfish stared blankly back at Nikolaus. Perspiration formed on his top lip, his head tingled, and his stomach, barely settled, lurched.

"Å gud ..."

Nikolaus raced outside of the inn and was promptly sick in a serendipitously placed shrub.

...

"I've brought up some broth and a hunk of bread, Your Highness, if you think you can eat ..."

Nikolaus groaned from the bed he had been lying in for the last two hours. At the smell of the broth his stomach gave a receptive growl, which was a good sign. The prince slowly maneuvered himself into a sitting position while Alvir rearranged the pillows.

"Might I ask If we are going to continue this ruse once we reach the palace?" Aldir asked.

"We may have to, as much as I abhor the idea- at least to gain entrance. I can't see Her Majesty opening the doors to two emissaries from the Southern Isles, much less one of her princes ..."

Nikolaus tried not to think of Hans' frightening descriptions of the Queen, the validity of which he was not looking forward to uncovering:

Abnormally tall ... crimson eyes ... not even flesh and blood but living ice.

He told himself he should not put too much stock in what Hans said in his bitter rantings, but he gave an involuntary shiver none the less.

"Cold Your Highness?"

"A little."

Alvir pulled an extra blanket from the armoire in far the corner of the room and draped it over Nikolaus' shoulders.

"When do you propose we should go, Your Highness?"

"Hopefully today."

"So soon? But Your Highness has barely recovered-"

"I'm fine now. I want to get this over with as soon as possible and be on my way home."

...

Elsa paced the room as she watched her sister pack a few necessary items in a bundle.

"Why not send a couple of my men out instead?"

"Because nothing says 'I love you' and 'please come back' like two strange guys tracking you down on behalf your girlfriend?"

"I see your point. Then let me go with you, it is partly my fault after all."

"No, Elsa, you have a kingdom to run, remember? I'll be fine, this ain't my first rodeo, you know?"

"What's a 'rodeo'?"

"I have no idea. It's just a phrase I heard some Coronean merchants use, and it basically means I've done this before."

"Yes, but you had Kristoff then. If not for him you would've been dead ten times over."

Ana frowned at her sister but conceded. "Granted . . . But, Kristoff has taught me a bunch of survival skills since then. I'm much better prepared then last time, and I'll have Olaf."

"At least let's take the time to look over a map and work out your route. You can circle all the different places you think he may have gone and plan accordingly, that's better than plunging willy-nilly into the wild."

Ana paused. "I suppose you're right."

"Stop packing for now and come with me to the study, I have Father's maps and charts already laid out."

Ana gave Elsa a grateful smile.

"I want to see that dear boy back here as much as you do."

Ana's eyes started to well up again. Elsa "tsked" sympathetically, gently tucked her hand in the crook of her sister's elbow and they walked arm and arm to the study.

Elsa was about to follow Ana inside the study when an attendant hailed her.

"There are two gentlemen in the foyer, Your Majesty. One seeks an audience with you."

"Did they state their business?"

"The gentlemen said they were horticultural specialists. Did Your Majesty summon them?"

"No ... But their arrival may be Providential. Ana, why don't you go ahead and start? I'll rejoin you once my business is concluded."

"All right, but don't take too long, I might decide to up and leave before you get back."

"Don't. I'll make this quick."

...

Elsa sank down on the throne of the audience chamber. She touched her crown to make sure it was on straight and brushed a fluff of lint off the skirt portion of the more formal gown she had changed into.

These men must have heard rumors regarding the state of the palace gardens and saw an opportunity. How much would they charge if she decided to make use of their services? Elsa also wondered if there was a chance they could possibly help with agricultural crises as well. She mentally went over the various figures that had been discussed during the budget meeting.

"You may show him in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lille skilling: One Norwegian skilling was from 1816 equivalent to 1⁄120 of a speciedaler, before that 1⁄120 of a rigsdaler specie, or 1⁄96 of a rigsdaler courant. It was introduced in Norway early 16th century and cancelled 1875. From 1625 to 1873, one Danish skilling was equivalent to 1⁄96 of a rigsdaler. The word is still used colloquially for an unspecified but presumably low amount of money, sometimes modified to a very small amount ("lille skilling"). (taken from Wikipedia)
> 
> Å gud: Oh, God.


	4. Chapter 4

Nikolaus had been directed to sit in one of the cushioned chairs in throne room's foyer. He was grateful for the seat for his limbs were feeling a little shaky. Maybe he had been too hasty afterall and should have stayed in bed.

It was too late now.

Nikolaus turned his attention to his surroundings: the foyer was medium sized and narrow, like a small gallery; a grandfather clock against the wall across from him announced the passing seconds with each loud tick. The colorful rosemaling pattern painted on the sloped ceiling raised his spirits a little, but did not settle his nerves. If Nikolaus had been sitting any closer to the edge of the chair he would fall off—which he nearly did when a footman announced, "Her Majesty will see you now." He almost wished he had taken Alvir up on his offer to come with him into the throne room, but he was glad he did not. If there was something truly monstrous behind those doors he did not want to his friend involved.

Nikolaus stood in front of the tall double doors. He absently scrutinized the wooden crocuses carved into the panels and traced one with his gloved finger. A sense of déjà-vu swept over him. He was still stunned that his father had awakened from his melancholy long enough to care about the outside world and to send him into it in the name of diplomacy.

_"You're the only one I trust, 'Klaus . . ."_

Nikolaus took a deep, bracing breath. No matter what met him on the other side of those doors, he was determined to be a credit to his father and honor his trust by being honest with the Queen of Arendelle. As his mother would say: "The path of trust is entered by the gate of truth".

The doors slowly swung open.

Nikolaus blinked as bright, natural light poured in from the stained-glass window at the end of the room; a marked contrast to the dimness of the foyer.

Nikolaus' gaze moved down from the image of the golden crocus in the window to the throne below it. As Nikolaus' eyes adjusted to the light he perceived—to his great relief—a woman of mere flesh and bone and average height was seated there. Her white-gold hair was plaited and pinned around her head, crowned by a delicate gold diadem. Below were two large cerulean eyes, a sloping nose, and a pair of thin cherry red lips. Her satin gown was of a deep teal; a gray fur mantle was draped on her shoulders and swirled around her slippered feet. Nikolaus realized that his jaw had gone slack and quickly shut his mouth with a click of his teeth.

If Hans had lied about the Queen's appearance, he must have lied about the ice sorcery as well. He could not imagine someone so delicate looking could wage such destruction.

The Queen blinked at him and Nikolaus realized she had asked him a question.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I did not hear you."

The Queen gave him a patient smile.

"You are an agricultural expert?"

Nikolaus cautiously drew closer to the throne.

"I . . ."

_Tell her the truth, Klaus ..._

"I am not, Your Majesty."

Elsa straightened in her chair and glanced at the two guards flanking the double doors.

"What is the meaning of this?" Demanded the Queen.

"I do assure you, Your Majesty, I meant to no harm by the subterfuge, but unfortunately it was necessary. I am Prince Nikolaus of the Southern Isles, el—" Nikolaus' feet suddenly went out from under him. He landed hard on his back and banged his head against the floor; he felt chill seeping through his jacket.

The floor was literally a sheet of ice.

 _Oh dear, it really_ is _true . . ._

Nikolaus tried to scramble to his feet but the slick surface sent him sprawling again. Panic curled in his chest. When he tried once more he watched with horror as ice snaked up his legs to his arms, encasing him.

_I should have lied!_

He was trapped. The light-headedness he had experienced earlier intensified with the pressure of the ice now encircling his chest. His teeth began to chatter from shock and cold. Suddenly his whole body was jerked into an upright position. A foot long radius around his feet was solid but beyond that a section of the ice was slightly melted, he was like a raft in the sea. His "raft" went forward and he felt a twinge of the familiar nausea.

The Queen's arms were outstretched, making motions as if she were pulling in a fishing net. Nikolaus was stopped at the foot of the dais. The Queen literally and figuratively looked down on him, her blue eyes bright with anger and indignation.

"The gall of the Southern Isles is beyond endurance! How dare you trespass on my sovereignty! My lack of reply to your king's missives should have been clear enough that Arendelle has cut all ties with his kingdom and has no desire to renew relations whatsoever!"

Nikolaus opened his mouth to try and manage a reply but Queen Elsa was not done.

"'We extend our sincerest regrets to the Princess Ana and assure Your Majesty of our ignorance regarding the reprehensible machinations of our youngest Prince . . .'? I may be a young and inexperienced monarch, but I was not born yesterday. How stupid does the Southern King think I am to expect me to accept that no one in the royal family had the slightest idea of the prince's ambitions? You will not find me so gullible!"

Nikolaus decided to take advantage of the pause in Queen Elsa's tirade and make a reply. He blinked as he tried to focus on her face, but his vision blurred and dimmed then went dark.

* * *

 

The guards rushed forward, followed by more guards who entered the room at the sound of the Queen's scream. Elsa felt paralyzed as she watched them inspect the body, her hands still on her mouth, in shock. " _Å Gud,_ what have I done?"

Ana came running in from a side door situated near the throne. "Elsa, what's wrong? I heard you scream!" Her sister did not answer but continued to stare at the prince lying on the floor where Elsa dropped him. Ana gasped when she followed her sister's gaze.

"What happened? Who is that?"

"He's alive, my Queen."

Elsa's whole body sagged with relief and, with trembling limbs, she sank down onto the throne.

"Call for the royal physician and lay His Highness in a guest chamber."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The guards carried Nikolaus from the room.

"His Highness?" Ana looked even more perplexed.

"That . . . was one of Prince Hans' brothers . . ."

At first the look Ana gave her sister was incredulous, but it hardened as she moved her gaze to the door the guards had left through. "What? What was he doing here? How did he get in? What does he want?"

Elsa leaned her right arm on the armrest and wedged her thumbnail between her teeth and bit down.

"Elsa?"

The Queen removed her thumb and rested her forehead in her hand.

"I don't know . . . he got in by claiming to be an expert in agriculture—or botany, or something like that . . . I don't know."

"How did you find out who he really was? He doesn't seem to particularly resemble that jerk . . ."

"He told me."

"He told you?" Ana's expression softened. "Then maybe he's a good guy— I mean, he snuck into Arendelle, which was totally wrong—but he was upfront with you, and you're the one he would need to fool the most."

Elsa rubbed her face with both hands. "I suppose." She rose to her feet. "But I don't want to let my guard down just yet."

Ana vigorously shook her head, "No, of course not." She followed her sister from the hall through the side door, and back towards the study.

"You should get going, Ana, while you still have the light."

Ana paused at the study door. "Will you be okay?"

Elsa gave her sister a wry grin. "I'll be fine. I've more than enough councilors to advise me. You need to find Kristoff and bring him home."

Ana looked torn again. She walked up to her sister who had been staring at her own hands with a troubled expression. Ana saw that they were trembling. "Are you sure?" She asked softly, covering them with her own. They were ice cold.

"Yes."

"Don't go back to the old Elsa who was afraid of herself. Please."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Ana stuck out her little finger. "Pinkie-swear?"

Elsa rolled her eyes but grinned and hooked her finger with Ana's.

"Yes, yes, pinkie-swear. Now go!"

Ana felt more relaxed. She rolled up the map, which was marked up with circles and lines. She had taken her sister's advice and planned routes to the places she thought Kristoff would be.

Elsa oversaw the packing of the caravan. It was the same bowtop caravan that she and Ana used to ride in when their parents took them on holiday on weeklong nature excursions. It was brightly painted yellow and green with red and yellow rosemaling patterns on the door. Elsa insisted Ana and Olaf allow Marshmallow to accompany them, at least a smaller version that could fit on the driver's seat.

Elsa walked into her room after seeing them off. She opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and rooted around a moment before she found the box she was looking for.

Elsa slowly drew on the black velveteen gloves she had thought to have put away forever and sighed as a familiar weight bowed her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Ana . . . just for a little while."

* * *

 


End file.
